


Just a Little Touch

by sheafrotherdon



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-07-25
Updated: 2006-07-25
Packaged: 2017-10-11 23:38:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/118410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sheafrotherdon/pseuds/sheafrotherdon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John likes Rodney's belly.  Smart man.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just a Little Touch

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dogeared](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dogeared/gifts).



"Stop it."

John smiled innocently. "Stop what?"

"Stop looking at it." Rodney seemed mutinous and tired, mouth set in a thin, unhappy line.

"I like it."

"I don't!"

"Rodney . . . "

"No!" Rodney glanced at his desk in a mild panic, picked up his tablet, and clutched it to him. "You're not going to persuade me! Save your charm and your head tilts and your, your – " he gestured, "desk-leaning for the native harpies. I'm sure there'll be an inexhaustible supply on whatever godforsaken piece of rock we stumble across on our next trip off-world."

John looked at him reproachfully. "Rodney."

"Stop – with my _name_ . . . "

"It's just a belly."

"It's my belly."

"Which is sorta why I like it," John said, stepping closer.

Rodney ground his teeth. "Oh yes. A ready source of exoticism, Lieutenant Colonel Abs of Steel, hmmm? A peculiar little oddity in your intergalactic zoo; a handy fable to demonstrate the pitfalls of staying in bed when there are _crunches_ to be done . . ."

"I just like it."

"And - as I keep saying - _I don't_ ," Rodney managed, strangled.

John stepped closer still. "Why not?"

Rodney let out a long-suffering sigh, and his shoulders slumped. "It's soft."

"It's touchable."

"It's hairy in all the wrong places."

"But it's manly hair . . ."

"It wobbles."

"When you laugh."

"It's pasty."

"It's a secret."

Rodney looked at him mournfully. "It makes my shirts look bad."

John couldn't help but smile a little at that. "S'probably why I like it naked."

"Oh shut _up_."

"Can I touch it?"

"What?" Rodney clutched at the tablet even tighter. "Here? No! Lab! Lab space!"

"It's midnight, Rodney. C'mon. Just a little touch."

"Are you _deaf_?"

"Smitten," John offered with a coy tilt of his head.

"With my _belly_?" Rodney yelped as his back hit a wall. "Unfair! Cornering is unfair!"

John smiled softly, dangerously, and slid a hand under Rodney's blue shirt. "See? Just a touch?"

"Oh damn," Rodney whimpered, lost, eyes falling shut. "Damn you, you – you . . . great, galloping - stomach rustler."

John quirked an eyebrow, thumb pausing over Rodney's navel. "Rustler?"

Rodney shivered as John's palm pressed warm against his skin. "Cows, horses, men with . . . hats, what the hell do I know?"

"Plenty."

"Okay," he managed weakly.

"Gravity and wormholes and drones and – "

"Weaponry. Of course . . . "

" - me."

Rodney opened his eyes. "You really like it?"

"I really like it."

Rodney struggled to find words. "You're completely insane."

John nodded guilelessly. "So?"

"So – so okay. You. Can touch the belly."

John smiled broadly. "Awesome," he breathed.

"At night. And on weekends. But no looking at it during meetings."

"Not even once?" John pouted.

"Absolutely not!" Rodney squared his shoulders. "No looking, no referencing, no comments about my stomach rumbling . . . "

"But at night?"

Rodney looked at him for a long, quiet moment. "At night you can touch."

"Deal."

Rodney managed a ghost of a smile. "I've lost my mind."

"We knew that already."

"You can never have too much empirical data when – "

"Rodney? Shut up."

"I – oh . . . "

John really gave him no choice.


End file.
